St Rose Academy - Yearbook (San Francisco, CA)

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GoLD AND WHITE 1f,-D--- l- A Summer at Shorelake By MARY BARBARA L1Ns T is almost two summers ago now that the whole affair happened, yet somehow or other Shorelake people have not forgotten, perhaps because they are still curious to find out all the details. If they knew them I believe that the affair would have died a natural death, for what people know to be the truth they never talk about but what they don't know they are always discussing. They will never get Allan to tell and of course Geraldine won't for Allan doesn't want her to, and therefore that leaves only me-but I am getting ahead of my story. Do you remember that summer when we had that terrible Storm and it rained continuously for four days? Everyone hated everyone else when the sun finally did come out, and the only nice thing about the storm was that I won fifteen dollars playing bridge. Well, it was that year that Allan's father, that's my brother Jack, sent Allan to me to keep for the summer. I hadn't seen them since that winter about eleven years ago when I went out west to visit the ranch. Allan was about twelve then, a merry youngster, exactly like his father, with the happy faculty of never being still. I had been contemplating a quiet summer when I received a letter from Jack. I had no idea what it might contain, for Jack writes me about twice a year and then only tells me that it is either raining or very warm. This was a longer letter than usual and read something like this: Dear Martha--It seems that every time I write, I have a favor to ask of you. Now if you're going to do anything important this summer don't bother reading the rest of this letter. CIsn't that just like a man, getting your curiosity all worked up? Even if I had been doing anything that summer nothing in the world could have prevented me from reading the rest of his letter, so I continuedj I pre- sume if you are still reading this, you are not going away, so now to the business part of my proposition. Could you possibly take Allan this summer? The fool boy started to ride one of those broncos and hurt his leg quite badly. The doctor says no riding, tennis or dancing, so of course Allan mopes around the house like a wet hen. I think the best thing to do is to send him east. The boy is crazy to go, so if it won't inconvenience you to have him please let me know. Love, Jack. I telegraphed back: When Allan's the only nephew I have, why ask foolish questions? Love, Martha. So that is how Allan came with me to Shorelake that summer. We arrived Saturday afternoon bag and baggage to find the house all ready and Mammy Lou, housekeeper, cook and everything else combined, standing in the doorway, all smiles and laughter. Ah's got everythin' ready for you'se, Missus Carrin'ton. You'se jest put your things right here. Ah's ain't goin' have you'se doin' a thing this summer. Is this Masser Allan? Ah's sure glad to see you'se. And with that we found ourselves ushered upstairs. Shorelake is not like any other summer camp, for it is very conservative and quiet. The same families come year after year and other vacationists are severely discouraged. I was therefore not much surprised when about half an hour later the telephone rang and on answering I heard Geraldine Barret's Twenty-seven

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' '-1 4S'fGOLD AND WH1Ti3f34-,---lTT- Twenty-six Fire- Fly By MARGOT LORENZEN A marshy meadow-a quiet pond, A lonely road and a hill beyond. In a muddy marsh below the hill On moonlit nights when the air is still W'here rushes and reeds grow green and high, There goes, sparkling, a Ere-fly. W'e see the gleam of his lantern bright Flitting about in the quiet night. He balances on the tall weed tops. Then to the reeds he quickly drops, And reeds to the marsh will softly cry, Here comes, sparkling, a Ere-fly. it Love By BERNICE O'CONNELL There is a dark and gloomy cloud above That fills the soul of every man with dread And hangs an omen upon countless heads. lt casts a shadow on the sweetest love And battles to o'ercome the peaceful dove. Beneath its presence have lain thousands, dead, Drenched in a horrible pool of blood, deep red. Distrust-suspicion--hate, is it made of. But through its dismal thickness a light gleams Sent to the world by some unearthly hand To comfort those who seek its heavenly beams. lt whispers soft as in its warmth they stand, God knows this stage and misses not a scene. He gives you Love, a light to the promised land. Q , To a Picture By GERTRUDE FITZPATRICK Colonial Lady, pictured on the wall. Whom I admired when so very small, Your glamor I no longer feel Why, you're painted, and I'm real! -

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-+ -f-H434 GOLD AND WHITE f3a-L---- -- merry voice. Greetings, Mrs. Carrington. I was just getting worried for fear you would not be here for the dance tonight. Don't worry, I replied. I wouldn't miss that for anything and besides I have a surprise for you. A'Male or female? she cried back. I bet male. Am I right? Wait and see, you minx. But as I hung up I knew that the summer would be successful, Allan and Jerry together and for me-Hshing and peace. Allan wasn't crazy to go when I told him, but finally he agreed. I almost wished I was young again as I watched him from across the table. He was tall and big, his pleasant smiling face tanned and with the added charm of two mischievous eyes, straight black hair brushed away from his face, a humorous mouth and strong hands. I felt sure Jerry would like him and I knew Allan would like Jerry, for who could resist her? Tall, slight as a boy, black eyes, beaten bronzed hair, pink and white complexion-that's Jerry. We did not take the car as it was only a few blocks to the Club and as we stepped along together I noticed how well Allan walked. He hardly limped at all. He seemed so well that I realized how hard it must be for a boy as athletic as he to give up swimming, dancing and all the sports of which he was so fond. However the doctor had said that if he was careful the end of the summer should see his leg as well as ever. It was the first Saturday dance in July and on this night the girls asked the boys to dance, Ever since I can remember this custom has been followed out. One of the girls started it long ago when she said that she didn't think it was fair for the boys always to do the asking. A lot of the others agreed with her, so they daringly, for it was daring then, inaugurated this custom. I thought as we walked along that it would have been better after all if we had not gone, for since Allan could not dance and as yet he didn't know any of the younger set, he would not have a very good time. But I comforted myself with the thought that Jerry would introduce Allan to her crowd and then of course everything would be alright. When we arrived I could not see Jerry anywhere so I myself was called upon to make all the necessary introductions and I was glad to know that everyone seemed to like Allan. I left him talking with a group of young people and wandered off to find some of my old friends. The evening sped by and as yet I had not seen Jerry. I supposed by this time that she had met Allan and that they were friends, so I set out to look for them. I went my way totally unconscious of what I was going to see, In a corner of the room, Allan with one hand on a chair was looking down into the upturned, smiling face of Jerry. Won't you, will you, won't you dance with me? I heard her coax as I approached. Allan's face flushed a deep red as he replied in a stammering voice, No, thank-you. Jerry looked at him. Her face became absolutely blank. I think that it was the first time that any boy had ever refused her anything, but rapidly regaining her composure, she turned quickly away. Allan's face was a picture of distress and perplexity. I hurried up and at his request we immediately left. Of course I couldn't say anything about the encounter, but I wondered what would be the outcome of the incident. The next morning about eleven Jerry wandered over with the announce- ment that she meant to have lunch with me. I didn't see your surprise last night, Mrs. Carrington. Where did you hide him? she said to me. 'Ttuenty-eight